


A Good Person

by Roofie



Category: Ready or Not (2019)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cos of course it is!, F/M, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Into PORN ;-), Self-Harm & Suicide that never sticks, Slow Burn-ish, Temporary Death (On Repeat!), Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:07:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29716929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roofie/pseuds/Roofie
Summary: It's okay, Daniel. You're a better man than you think.
Relationships: Daniel Le Domas/Grace Le Domas
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	1. Start at the End - Grace

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters are going to be short and sweet.  
> Go, go, go!

Take a drag, blow it out. A good long pull. Whistle on the exhale. Hands steady, flick ash.

"Jesus Christ, what happened to you?"

"In-laws."

Time to laugh; laugh until there's shaking, laugh until it aches. What else is there to do? _Absolutely nothing_. So, blow it out, and take a drag.

* * *

"Grace?"

"Daniel... You're _dead_."

Sit together. Stare at trees. Knock knees. Glance at burnt teeth, and singed hair.

"There's a hole in your neck."

"There's a hole in your shoulder."

"Well, it's better than the tit, don't you think?"

Fingers on her back, drag along a gash. It stings, but a bullet to the hand hurts worse. At least none of hers are fatal. Smack him away, anyway.

* * *

"Grace?"

"Yeah?"

"Are they dead?"

"Mhmm."

"Did you...?"

"Nope."

"... _Le Bail_?"

"Yup."

"No shit."

"Oh, except Becky. I killed Becky... _Sorry_."

Silence. Then a record plays, warped and weird. Starting all over again inside a burning empty house. Daniel's corpse slumps, shakes.

* * *

_**Run, run, run, time to run and hide.** _

_**Run, run, run, and now I'm going to find.** _

" **Grace...** "

"Daniel?"

_**Anywhere you've fled I am going to find you.** _

_**Stay inside the shadows all you girls and boys.** _

_**Don't you make noise or I am going to find you**_.

" **One rule:- Don't. Lose.** "

"What?"

_**Run, run, run, creep up on my prey.** _

_**Run, run, run, stalk the night away.** _

_**Scuttle off into the night but what'll be behind you?** _

" **Infinite tries.** "

"No-"

_**Like a frog inside a skillet, a lobster in a pan.** _

_**You don't understand that I am going to find you.** _

_**Be still as a mountain and quiet as a mouse,** _

_**'Cause any little sound and I will surely find you.** _

" **Fair trade.** "

"No!"

_**Tick tick tock, are you ready or not?** _

_**Tick tick tock, listen to the clock.** _

_**Hasten off into the night, don't waste another heartbeat.** _

" **Save the other one who earned it.** "

**_Ready or not, here I come!_ **

**_Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha_ **


	2. Hit & Run - Daniel

There's a certain level of fuckery just accepted in situations like these, in _families_ like these. There's a specific kind of resignation (better to cling to that than the horror). It's what makes someone part of the family; submission, compliance.

 _Play the game_.

Alex.

"It says 'Hide and Seek'. Are we really going to play that?"

 _Argue_. She looks _sick. Does she know?_

"Yeah. Those are the rules. Hide and Seek, right, Dad?"

 _Alex_...

Grace screams, cries, flees, sits perfectly still, smashes a glass and slits her own throat. She does none of that. It's only in the mind, wishful thinking.

Ready or not.

* * *

"This doesn't end well for you. I just don't want to be the one to serve you up."

Grace slaps, begs, runs, smashes, and even just takes the fucking drink. She does none of that. It's all just a game, and she's playing it well. Nobody's seen her since.

The maids always die. Three, two, one, and then there were none. Nobody cares that they're dead, either. Nobody bats an eye. Because there's just a _certain level of fuckery_ accepted in situations like these.

Wait... ' _Always_ '?

* * *

"It's funny, I came out here to escape the madness..." But there's no hiding from the truth now, is there? "Thanks for crashing a car into my tranquillity."

"Daniel..." Desperation like that isn't a stranger here (it's not just for _her_ face), "You don't want to kill me. You don't want me to die."

"No, I don't." Has someone said that before? "I like you, Grace."

More than he thought, more than he ought, more than he's ever really said. Enough to never want to see her hurt, scared, crying, _dead_.

Not being one of 'us' can make someone... glorious.

"So, let me go, okay? You're a good guy! You're a really, really, _really_ good guy-"

How has all of this been said before?

The lying is wholly unnecessary. A devil knows what he's not. A dress would still be white, hair would still be neat, and Grace would never have set foot over the threshold. Belated mercy is hardly redeeming (even if she is going to get it anyway).

Stepping up into her space, "You fucking _stink_ , Grace."

 _Come on_ , whisper back, play the game ( _this doesn't seem familiar_ ).

"It was, um, all the _corpses_."

Good, Grace, good.

"Take the gun and _hit me with it_." Because a maniac is hiding behind that tree, that wants to tie her to a table and stick a knife into her chest, "It's plausible deniability, okay? Just hit me and _run_."

Hand on the barrel. Yank. Swing. Smack. Right in the money maker.

" _Thank you_." Scrambling through soggy leaves.

Still too slow. A gun cracks. It's all entirely useless. Her body hits the floor, and gone is Grace.

"It's done Dad, it's over. You aimed for the centre of gravity with a _fucking shotgun_."

Dawn comes and Aunt Helene is the first to explode. Turns out rituals _definitely can't_ be performed on corpses. Death comes with laughing, wheezing, and blood. A shadow of a man somehow sits in an empty chair.

"So, _that's_ what happened to the Van Horns..."

There is such a _specific_ kind of resignation that's always better to cling to than horror.


	3. Squeaky Feet - Grace

**_Hippy, hippy shake_.**

It's time for a fucking break. Headphones in. Sneakers squeak across polished floor. What else are Music Rooms even good for? They all do the same shit, no matter how many times they play. Remove the Grace from the equation and all the variables fall off (the maids still die, though, Emilie just happens to kill all three).

**_You shake it to the left_ **  
**_You shake it to the right_ **  
**_You do the hippy shake_ **  
**_With all of your might_ **

There's about an hour. If the game's played right. An hour of quiet, of peace, before the camera's turn back on, and the doors unlock, before...

"Grace?"

Headphones pop. Spin. Freeze.

"Daniel?"

"What are you _doing_?" He's grabbing an arm and dragging, "You should be hiding! You can't..." Stumble. Stop. "You- you have a _gun_ , Grace."

"So do you."

The thing is, he's left the Study. He _never_ leaves the Study. If he doesn't set eyes on Grace, he passes out drunk - out like a light. She's watched him. All free in his sleep (it's lovely). Every time. _That's his loop_. He never shifts, he never seeks, he explodes in his sleep...

"Grace-" Fuck it.

"Dance with me."

" _Grace_." New variable.

" _Dance_ with me."

Pushing a bud into his ear, she grabs and pulls. A warm palm lands in the small of her back, as a handgun slides against his shoulder. Arms outstretch, and the rifle swings. Their hands clasp over a dying cell-phone.

"We have 20 minutes, maybe."

Sway. Spin. Squeaky feet. A confused man takes the lead after his toes get stepped on. Sweaty. Drunk. Kind of sweet.

"You didn't dance with me... _Before_ , I mean. At the wedding."

"Hm."

"Feeling guilty?"

" _Yeah_..."

"All that flirting, and nothing to back it up, huh?"

"Grace... I-" Stop.

"Hey, it's alright." His eyes are on the floor, "Were you trying to scare me away, Daniel?" Fingers pull nervously at intricate lace, " _Boy_ , you should have been so much _worse_ -"

"Didn't _actually_ want to upset you- or Alex for that matter..." Feet shift, and that warm palm... it pulls closer, " _I like you,_ Grace."

"Selfish."

" _Yeah_... sorry, family trait."

Silence abounds, but in their ears music plays only for them. A pendulum wire dangling between, connecting their ears to some sunshine. Golden hair presses to collar, and eyes close at the feeling of body heat. It's nice.

"I got the gun from Charity's purse."

"She brought-"

"Do you think you ever loved her?"

Swallows before he speaks, "Once. For a little while. But not the way Alex loves you."

Stiffening up, the gun shifts across his shoulder blades, and a question hangs in the air, even if she doesn't ask it.

"There was this moment, the day- _the day_ we got married, where she looked at me and... I was just her golden ticket, a means to an end. She was finally done pretending I was anything but."

"Why would you-"

"I'm a drunk, Grace, not stupid. _I always knew that I was_ , but we understood each other. Naively thought we maybe even _liked_ each other. She was getting what she wanted, and I was helping her get it. I was doing something good. _That's all love is_ , right?"

" _Not really_."

"Yeah, well, Alex had left, she had said 'yes', and you weren't around to offer pithy wisdom at the time. So, I learned my answer the hard way." He's looking at her for once, her nose, her cheeks, her face, "I was just... so _tired_ of being _lonely_ , Grace."

"Selfish."

"Yeah, you mentioned that."

The room turns. Fingers shift over delicate white. Comfortable strokes as her eyes press to his neck. She breathes in cologne and liquor, and he loses his footing a little.

"If I was Charity- if ' _Charity_ ' was ' _Grace_ '... Would you have done all that for me?"

"I'd have given you everything you wanted-"

"That's not what I asked..."

"I'd have given you _everything_ you wanted... _Except for a marriage_."

"Because I 'don't belong in this family'?"

"You're _too good_ for any of _this_."

Any other night, any other man... Grace pulls herself so close to him, and feels hearts beat. Lips against hair and skin. He inhales like he's hurting, and she exhales like she's sleeping.

"It's okay, Daniel. You're a better man than you think."

He traces the shapes of flowers, pressing her in. Brings their arms close, pushing hers up around him. Dropping the rifle to the floor, he squeezes at her shoulders. Pulls her in tight. Chest to chest - hip to hip. Dancing like lovers. Breath across faces. Eyes on lips. Noses against cheeks. He wets with his tongue.

"Daniel?"

" _Charity_ -"

"Times up."

"Grace?"

This is a night she wont see to its finish. Not anymore. Not after this. Gun to the temple.

"Grace!"

Squish.


	4. Change is Empty - Daniel

There's blood on her face. It's not really there, but he can still see it - burned onto his retinas. Staring at each other over champagne glasses. Should she be alive?

* * *

"It's funny, I came out here to escape the madness." But there's no escaping it, is there? "Thanks for crashing a car into my tranquillity."

Or would it be more apt to say 'through his apathy'?

"Daniel..." There's no blood this time, no corpse bits. Playing it different? "You won't kill me."

"No, I won't." Never will, cross his heart, hope to die, (and in the back of the mind... he _has),_ "I like you, Grace."

They've said this all before, so no wasting time on begging. They both know he's going to let her go. The gun drops, crushing leaves. It'll only get in the way...

He stinks of old whiskey. Hands cupping her cheeks, they stumble. A kiss. _Another_. Warms lips. Breaths hiss. Champagne and wedding cake, that's how she tastes. Tiny shaking hands grab hold of his hips, ball into fists, bunch up his shirt, and twist. Stroking her jawline, noses slide. Daniel offers tongue, and Grace sucks it in.

 _Oh_... This is a kiss made to _ruin_ a life. He never cared much about anything, until this.

She pushes back, eyes heavy, lidded, fixated on his mouth. Moving them together, breaths going from shallow, panicked, pained, to something desperate, sad, and hungry. Kisses between glances. She never pulls far from his.

"You're ' _weak'_."

"... That's my line."

"This is _new_."

It shouldn't make sense, and yet... He knows _exactly_ what she means. Something's different. Something's changed. This has never been before. So, can it never be again?

"Fuck- Tony- No!"

A thunder. A bang. Everything's hurting.

"Traitor!" And they're not exactly _wrong_ now, are they _?_

The psycho hiding behind a tree... Daniel had known, hadn't he? Where his Dad was hiding? Or did he not this time?

' _This time_ '?

Knees in mulch. Grace is screaming. Diving. Rifle. Aim. Click. Absolute hysteria.

"It's _empty,_ Daniel _? Really?_ "

"Skinny little _bitch_ , you're just another _goat_!"

The shotgun points at her belly, and maybe Tony had expected her to flinch - comply. Not to grab the barrel, yank it up, shove at the hand on the trigger. Pellets tear through spine, shred up both her lungs.

She's dead.

Is it ' _again_ '?


	5. Temporary When - Grace

The Study door opens and Grace is _there_ , yanking the rifle from his arm. Aim. Squeeze. Click. Fucking empty from the _off_.

"Daniel..." Angry? Relieved? Heartbroken? Overjoyed?

"I didn't want to hurt you. Not even by mistake. I only came to get a drink."

"Fuck the _drink_."

The gun is on the floor, hands grabbing at lapels. Pull. Kiss. Scrabble. _Sink_. He's shaking like a leaf, with her nipping at lips with her teeth. Hands sliding up sides, trickling along shoulders, digging in hard and warm against spine - _get in closer_. Pulling at hair. Trying to find skin. It's all wide and desperate. Sucking on his tongue, relishing in his shudder. How easy it is to forget how to _think_...

Knuckles against stomach, Daniel pushes her back. Back into the window-arch. Back against the glass. Back behind the curtain. All his weight pressing down. Gasping, and pants, like she's a well timed whiskey or much needed gin. Pulling away only a little, just to look at her.

It's unfair to compare him to Alex. It's unfair to even _think_ \- Alex was never broken, Alex never _needed_ to drink, but Alex always looked at her like she was a bit of hope that was somehow all for _him_. And Daniel...

Daniel just swallows her up, drinks her down, takes all that he can, because he thinks she's just a _temporary reprieve_. She's not there to make him _better,_ not there to make him _good_. He is what he is. Nothing to love.

"Daniel?"

Out of her space, out of her air, out into the open, smoothing down his hair. He kicks the curtain to cover up Grace, and opens the mini-bar. Pours. Charity attends her husband, voice bitter like their souls.

"You won't find her in the _bar_."

"Indeed."

"You're pathetic."

" _Indeed_."

"Could you at least _pretend_ to care? Alex got out."

Grace can see him, peaking from behind the drapes, drunk and drinking -never looking her way. He's the Daniel with no soul left. The Daniel who pretends _not_ to care.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll find them with or without my help..."

He's standing square in front, and she knows that even without the curtain he'd be keeping her barely seen. He offers his wife a drink, quick and slick, guiding her away towards the door.

"Do you remember how you reacted when I told you about all this? You didn't fucking blink..."

"Well, you know where I came from and what my life was like before. I'd rather be _dead_ than lose all of this."

"Hm... _from your lips_."

An empty room. A hollow chest. What had Alex said?

' _ **If** I told you, you would have left._'


	6. The Good One - Daniel

"Come on, up and at 'em! They're gonna shit weird for a week."

Blood covered, exhausted, God, she looks _tired_. She can barely even speak. There's blood soaking through satin, staining her beautiful lace. Hiding under the stairs, Daniel takes in her shivering face.

"Did you know I was going to help you?"

"You always fucking do." Her hand in the front of his collar, " _Drop_ when I tell you to."

Out into the hall. Shouting all around them. They make for the open door, and...

"Daniel..."

He shields her with his body, pushing Grace back, trying to keep her safe with the only thing he has. Gentle fingers on his hips, she hasn't run and left him. His wife certainly _wouldn't_ have done the same. Speaking of...

"Get out of the way."

"Charity..."

Grace's shaking grip tightens.

"You really don't care if I die..."

"Now!"

A wife fires on her husband, and Daniel hits the floor. His neck is stinging, and hands slap down over bullet burn. He remembers this... _bleeding more_. Half a dozen shots. All miss. It's Grace's victory.

"Let me look- let me see!" Hands pull at collar, desperate and panicky - there's a little blood, nothing much, just a graze really, "Okay- Up! Up! This is the furthest you've gotten."

Together, the lamp tossed between them, they knock out Tony.

She's nearly out! Almost to the door!

So, then... why is Grace _screaming_?

" _Oh_..."

Fingers close around wooden stick, an arrow shaft digging through ribs. There's no surviving this. Desperate limbs break his fall, cradling him in horror. There's no time for it! She should be running!

"Go Grace, _go_..."

"You don't deserve a _family_!"

Becky's skull cracks against table, her body a grotesque shaking shape. Grace smacks her into it over and over, again and again and again.

There's weeping. Heaving. Pulling at slumped shoulders. Swearing. She's too weak, and he's too heavy. Collapsing on the floor, Grace is sobbing.

"I'm taking you _with_ me, you hear? I'm not leaving you."

Breathing is hard, like the skill is departing. She has him halfway through the room, when...

"Alex! Alex, it's Daniel- Alex, help me with him!"

"Grace! Oh my God, Grace. Daniel? What happened?"

"What does it _look like_? Your Mom shot him! We have to get him to a hospital."

Daniel tries saying something, anything, that isn't full of blood and bile, like 'forget _me_ , save _her_ '.

"Okay, okay, we're getting out of here. Daniel, don't go anywhere, okay? We're getting out of here _together,_ isn't that right, Grace? _Grace_..."

She's not looking at him, her hands around Daniel's chest ready to lift. Alex isn't moving. Eyes on his wife's face. She looks resigned, she looks _sick_.

"You- you won't be with me after this."

Fury and heart ache, but absolutely no surprise, her face just _breaks_.

"Not now- Not now, Alex- _Please_ \- _Daniel_..."

"She's in here!"

_No, no, no, no, no.._.

Daniel chokes on a scream, hauling himself back, with what little strength he has left. The pair of them somehow scrabbling away horrified.

She _only has Daniel_? She only has _him?_ What sick kind of cosmic joke-

Under the table, feet are thundering towards them. Grace screams and wails, and Daniel finds himself crying, coughing on words, trying to make _sense_.

"No- No! He's supposed to be the good one- He's _meant to be good_ \- _Alex_ gets you _out_..."

She's rocking him back and forth, shaking like a flower, hands tight around his, and around his bloody arrow.

"I'm sorry. _I'm sorry, Daniel_. I'm _so_ sorry. You can forget this one, okay? You can forget it."

And claws scrape at her skin, rip at her dress, pull at her limbs, trying to get her back out into the open (even if it is piece by broken, bloody piece).

"Grace..."

The arrow tears from his chest. With his last gasping breaths, he watches her stab herself in the neck. Shredding it to pieces, her life spills out over his face. Foreheads slump together.

"Forget this one..."


	7. Bare Feet - Grace (explicit)

Head pressed to cool wood. There's the sound of footsteps passing. Tony, Helene, a corpse... _Daniel_ , (if she waits, just long enough, there's even Emilie), and they all go off together. Happy little psycho family.

This end of the house stays empty (except for the Study, of course, except for Daniel always in the Study). So, when the door pulls out of her hand, when it creaks open, it's to Grace's utter surprise.

Again?

"Daniel-"

"How many?"

Step - into her space, into the dark, into hidden corridors. The door. It clicks shut. Closing them in, and everything else out.

"How many times has Alex-"

"Every time. If I let him."

His eyes drop as he spirals. Anger, disappointment, disgust, misery. She has nothing to offer but exhausted sympathy.

"You're going to trip in that dress." Digging out some keys, Daniel kneels before the bride - tears at satin and tool, until he sees bare feet. "Where are your shoes, Grace?"

"Upstairs, with Alex."

Keeping on ripping in a loop, wiping cheeks with his sleeve, his fingers close gently about ankle. One step, two step, and he _should_ release. Squeezing her calf, the warm skin makes muscles shift. His fingers heavy but careful. A touch more grounding than sharp liquor. A broken face falls against fabric.

 _Breathe_.

"If anyone was gonna _save you_ -"

"It was never going to be him."

"I shouldn't have let you marry him."

"You don't own his mistakes. Or _mine_ , for that matter."

"Grace..."

"I'm _sick_ of this."

Standing over him like she is makes her feel... _something_. And her fingers twine into the front of his shirt. Pull apart the buttons. He looks up at her face, eyes wide and uncertain as she steps forward into his space. Feels his hand sliding, round the back of her knee, over the rear of her thigh, tracing the curve of her ass.

" _Spanx_ , Grace?"

"Hey, all women wear them, _especially_ at weddings."

"For the food babies, right?" Smiling - _stupid_ \- but he's cleared the smoke from the room.

Grabbing the open-front of the shirt, now halfway down to stomach, Grace guides him up. Face to face. His fingers firm but shifting underneath skirt. She notes the way he swallows. Wants to stroke the hair on his chest. Fingers linger, wondering if she'll feel it go all the way down.

He's watching what she's doing, close enough to nudge cheeks. Breath rising and falling, she takes his flesh between her teeth. Biting the hell down hurts him. She knows it does. His digits digging into what she wishes was actual skin. Shoulders shaking 'til she lets it up, and he takes a deep breath in.

"You know, other than Alex, none of you ever come in here."

"Well, these tunnels _are_ built for the _help_."

"Fucking _rich people_."

Smiling more-so, his lips against hers are heavy, it almost actually stings. The wall scratches her back as he pens her body in. Sucking at tongue, Daniel pulls away groaning. Ducking down she bites him again. Then he's swearing, scrabbling at her skirts, ruching them up around hips.

Tugging her hair brings their mouths back together. His beard rough against chin. And _God_ , the way he slides his tongue... It reminds her how her pussy still works. He stops when he has a good grip on her shapewear. Waits for her to nod her assent. Starts tugging and pushing, getting them down passed her knees, before he's back up and digging into her flesh.

She kicks everything off at the bottom, and sighs to have someone touching her skin. Hands stroking cheeks, scratching through facial hair. He's pulling at her thigh, wrapping her up around his hip, grinding himself forward so she can _feel him_. Heart thudding in her throat, she can't hear anything but the way he breathes; heavy, hungry, harried.

Pushing away his suspenders, he gives her the space to unhook his belt and work on his fly. Her hand slips down into underwear... and the intimacy of _that hair_. She caresses him. Shuddering back he stares at where their skin meets.

Then his attention leaves her, but only for an instant. Deciding the wall isn't where he wants them to be. Pulling her round and stepping, suddenly there's a post with dust and spiderwebs. Puff and blow and raspberry. Giggling is an alien feeling, as his fingers gently wipe it all away.

It's all serious again, though, when she _squeezes_...

Guiding one of her hands up above their heads, into the awning, she takes the hint and holds on tightly. Hiking her thigh, digging in nails, he reaches between them and covers her gently pumping fist with his own. Foreheads together, both their eyes flicker and shoulders shake. The head of his cock slides along the length of her lips, and rubs heavy against where her clit waits. 

"Are you wet enough?"

" _I don't fucking care._ "

"From your lips..." Eyebrows rise, and he's encouraging her to _go, then_.

Taking his hand away, he lifts and twines his fingers with her grip above their heads. Grace lines him up, but he's the one who pushes in. Slow, heavy, the _stretch_. Jaws slacken, and thighs shake as he presses up, and in, and _in_. Gripping his shoulder, Grace gasps through the ache of it. He's so much _thicker_.

When hips come flush they are panting, grinding, circling, exploring. An unsteady hand runs through the roots of dark curls as noses press against cheeks. Daniel kisses her, reaffirming his grip on her thigh before pulling out most of the way. Leaning back, watching her face, he slides himself up again.

Licking lips, he does it once more, but this time it's faster - a dull thud as their bodies meet. There's this stupid sound Grace makes, somewhere between a 'what' and a 'wow', and he takes it. He takes it and sets her up with a pace that has her gasping and grinding teeth.

His eyes on hers are full of an almost a painful kind of pleasure. She can tell he feels _good_ , but that's _not the point_. Those eyes are watching to be told how to fuck her. That _feeling_ again... something like power, something like warmth - some semblance of control.

"Faster..."

Grace can hardly keep her eyes open when he pushes the tempo up. His chest shaking before hers, gripping tighter and tighter. The speed making the hits harder. It's _wonderful_. It _aches_. She presses her hips down onto him and gets a stupid noise all of her own. Her hands coming together on the awning, the lace protests until it splits. Lift and drop. Taking him so roughly they both shake and twitch.

"Fuck- _faster_."

And he does it. He pulls her ass up higher, drags her hip in closer - nails pulling at lace flowers until they're breaking. He does what she tells him to, his face sliding against the side of hers. His staggered breath in her ear is overwhelming.

Each full beat has the muscles of her pussy moving. The pressure building as her eyes flutter shut - _feeling_. If he touched her clit she'd be _cumming_ \- Then he's not pumping he's grinding. His pubes and warm skin rolling against where she needs it. 

"Oh, _jeezus_... Fast-er."

She feels him nodding, and he's yanking her hips forward - pushing into her over and over. And then the muscles aren't just twitching, they're _singing_ , squeezing, clutching. Grace _is_ cumming. The sound of her pleasure stuck in her throat as his teeth scrape along clenching jaw. Fucking her through it, (now privy to how her thighs quake and spasm when she breaks).

Hands come down against his shoulders, wrapping herself around him. Rasping blissed-out breaths as he keeps fucking and grinding. A rough hand drags her other leg up against him and then he staggers them back towards a wall. Stronger than he looks. Still fast, but now he's going _hard_. He's chasing after.

" _Grace_ -"

"You can cum- _cum inside me_." It's not like it matters.

The spill of him is _warm,_ weighty. His head buried in the neck of her dress as he pumps and squirms himself in. It makes Grace shiver, stroking his spine, like she could almost cum again. Not quite, though. Not quite...

"Grace?"

" _Shit- fuck- Alex_..."

Daniel's out of her. Putting himself away as she drops to the floor. Pushing in front, this time she's the one guarding, as her husband comes around the corner. Shoes dangling by the laces. Eyes wide, broken, disbelieving, judging.

"W-were you just fucking him? On our we-? At our _wedding_?"

"Alex-"

"Were you fucking him?!"

"Don't _shout-_ "

"Shitfucker!"

Grace isn't quick enough. Shoved hard against wall, her head cracks on brick. Dazed and dropping to the floor. Black comes next.

* * *

Her brain can't quite understand the sound of fists and breaking flesh. Her eyes barely putting together Daniel on the floor, his face a bloody mess. No raised fists.

_Pull yourself together, Grace._

Shoes. Discarded. She makes for the laces. Ripping them out with shaking sodden fingers. Throwing herself at her husbands back; pulling tight, taught, hard. Breath _drags_. Crossing her wrists as he rocks back, she plants filthy bare feet to his shoulder-blades and pushes. He's not coughing, or choking, because he's _not inhaling_. His hands flail and the skin she can see is blooming.

It takes longer than she expects to kill him.


	8. Short-lived Escapism - Daniel (explicit)

Daniel thinks most of the time he must be asleep. Wakes up at the table with a dream (a nightmare) still fresh, but it slips through his fingers all too quick.

He looks at Alex and feels sickness. Looks at Grace and feels a wholly different thing. She just quietly rubs her eyes and stares ahead of her. Her head slowly drifting around to look at him.

And suddenly Daniel remembers. Alex killed him. Burying his head in his hands. Caught fucking his wife. So, Alex killed him _._ What kind of brothers...

Wait- Not just Alex. Charity. _Mom_. Tony!

Look up. Everyone is standing. Alex whispering to his Grace. There's a memory of her smiling, and giggling... Not understanding that everything's fake. Then there's blood, and screaming, and the stench of rotting corpses.

She doesn't look so fooled anymore.

* * *

Daniel opens the dumbwaiter. Surprised to see her in it. A half vague and hazy conversation. There's absolutely nowhere to go. There has to be somewhere _safe_. Sounds in the distance of gunfire and shouting. It's good to know the incompetence will never change.

"Bye, bye Clara..."

"We barely knew her."

Offering his hand, she takes him and trusts. There's only one place he can think of, where nobody but him would ever be. So, the attic ladder thuds.

* * *

"Get me out of this _fucking thing_."

Fingers slide down her spine, over separating lace. Undoing the zipper. Yanking herself out of her own wedding dress. Kicks it away cursing. Starts pulling at hairpins. Walking passed dust sheets, stacked boxes. Corset and spanx in bare feet.

"I've got enough shrapnel up here for a minefield." 

There's an antique sofa here somewhere. Finds it. Waves her over. Chucks off the dust sheet. Hovers about a bit. Pin after pin after pin. Her hair slowly falling, flowing, golden and beautiful, even in light that's dim. He helps her. His fingers sliding down skin he once would never have dared to touch...

* * *

"Not talking, huh?"

"What's happening, Grace?"

"Hide and Seek." Crick a neck and shudder, "Over and over and over."

 _So many times_ he's seen her dying. He knows he has. So, why can he barely remember? Sliding onto the sofa beside her. Staring out of the window. Knocking knees. A pretty night sky. Stars in motion. There's a dull sting, a kind of knowledge. He has stayed with Grace so many times, even when it gets her or him dead.

"For how long?"

"Couldn't tell ya." Voice says nonchalant, but the shaking leg says different, "No way to keep track. Either I die or I don't. Maybe, like three weeks? Might be a couple of years? Fucking... _Le Bail_."

His hand slides over bouncing knee. Makes it still. Shoulders shaking. Tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Grace..."

"I'm crazy- Out of my fucking mind! When I'm sane it stops being easy... I just keep playing the game."

"Okay."

Shifting fingers. Stroking waist. Kissing shoulder. Like he's somehow had permission to do it for ever. Her face close to his, she looks small and frightened. Warm lips leave a trail over clavicle. Her breath shakes. That soft spot, just behind the ear. There's not much he can offer her but this. A little escape. A little bliss. He unclips the top of her corset. Pushes tips down over tit.

"Daniel..."

Rolling a nipple softly, "It's okay. Do you _want_ me? Then you can _have me_. I don't mind."

The fabric of his trousers creaks as she fists it up over his thigh. Kicking off shoes, he shifts a leg round, behind her. Kisses her skin, keeps working on clips. Moves to stroke up her thigh instead of her tit.

Corset comes off. Tosses it to the floor. Pulls her arm over his shoulder. A moment. Just to take a look. The shape of her. Pale. Pretty. A tit is a tit is a tit, but when she breathes he sees a slight hint of rib. He wonders, if he laid her out just right, without the spanx, without all this shit, if he could even see veins and hip.

The arm stroking along her back slides forward. Kneads breast. Brings his mouth to the other. Rolling tongue, kiss and suck, taste flesh. Her breath runs ragged, until he uses his teeth. Then she's shaking and panting, and _squirming,_ trying to make friction underneath.

Daniel slides up her thigh again. Squeezing and pulling them apart. Palming and rubbing. All that _heat_ in the centre (maybe one day he'll put his mouth there too). Waistband's high. He pushes down under it. Through clearly curated pubes. Feels the lips of her parting. Hips rock up. Shallow dip. Just to get wet. Then he's circling her clit. Slow, and firm, and...

" _Shit_."

There's not enough give in the fabric to get a good fingering, but he can make her cum from this. With his mouth he worships her tits. With his digits he 'flicks'. The longer it goes, the more she bucks her hips. Her hand twisting and turning over collar.

She comes undone when he bites down on her nipple, rolling between teeth. Learnt pretty quick she favours the right side of her clit. Rubbing down hard he watches her eyes roll back, jaw clench up, then everything _release_. It's majestic.

Pushing her forward, "Lose the spanx, Grace."

Unsteady hands, hers boneless, his shaking, get her well and truly naked. Pulling her in tight to his chest, ass against tented crotch - Daniel ignores the feeling. Grits his own damn teeth. Mouth on neck, beard scratching skin, he pulls her thigh over his own and shoves two fingers in. The other hand rough with her tits, she rolls her head back onto his shoulder and pants out the gist. Where to pump, push and twist.

Sounds are wet. Fabric shifts. She's scratching at his thighs and circling her hips. Stretching her apart with three fingers, the butt of his thumb adding friction. Nails dig in at the back of his neck. Her face pressing against his throat as she heaves and hicks. He feels her legs shiver and quake. Gets a broken sound from her throat as she cums again, over his relentlessly pumping hand.

"That's it, Grace- _that's it_."

He drags it out for her, on and on. Her body bucking and arching. Until her legs shudder in. Closed. Tender. Kissing her nose, her touch slides up his arm, warm and careful. Stroke at cheeks with sticky fingers. Grip jaw. Grace gently tugs through his hair. Every breath from her mouth captured by his. His beard against her cheeks, moustache under her lips. 

He undoes his belt buckle, checks that she heard. Feels her push aside a suspender. Pulls off the other over his shirt. Trousers down. Trousers off. Hand on his cock. They work her up and over onto lap together. Her legs spread wide over his. If he pushes knees out, she goes even further. Leaning back into the cushioning, Daniel runs a heavy palm down her spine. Enjoys watching the muscles roll.

Prefers the way she arches back, though, when he guides her down onto his dick - pushes it thick and fully into her. Hot. Tight. Close. Slick. Her hands on his knees shake as she takes him. Pressing herself down and circling. The body around his cock shifting, making his shoulders shiver. She doesn't lift and drop, she starts her hips to rock. As deep inside her as he can get, her roll and shift and weight on him is achingly too good to forget.

Wrapping an arm around her stomach, he comes forward. Kisses up her back as she squirms. The press of him gets _just_ a bit deeper. Then he's pushing her ass away.

Yanks her wholly back down onto him. Their skin slapping obnoxiously loud. Does it again, quicker, one more time, another. Until she takes the hint, and they're doing it together.

Getting sweaty. Shirt pulls apart. Her hand slides back to feel the hair where he's tender. She rubs up and down his stomach as he leans back to let her. The sound of scratching lost to their pleasure. Her spine arches back, so he starts to push up harder. Hips judder and grind. The pace they set now, faster, and sharper, like pulled taught twine.

Daniel reaches round the front. Sliding fingers over stretched and pumping pussy. Settling on her sensitive nub. Rubbing hard and heavy. Until she's cumming again. This time on his thick and throbbing member. The feel of it like tugging, her body locking, as he keeps pumping in and in and up. She's so _tight_. It's almost enough to have him following.

She's a wobbly body afterwards. Slumping over, breathing hard. Daniel pushes her legs up and together. Guiding her forward and down. Practically on hands and knees. Grip hard on hips, from the edge of the sofa he fucks into her, and her knees really do hit the deck. A desperate overwhelmed sound that makes his hair stand on end.

Slipping out of her, she protests, but he's soon down behind her. Tearing off and chucking his shirt. Pushing her legs a little apart. Shoving back in smoothly as she drops her own face to the floor. It's as hard and fast as he can make it, pulling her back over and over. Until she's reaching round to grab his wrist and he slows to see what she's after.

Grace wriggles her hips, spreads her legs out on either side of him. The change brings her lower, but she keeps on spreading. Lower still. Until Daniel has to put a hand down over her shoulder. She pushes back onto him, once, twice, three times. Slow and deep. Her throat groaning out something so good, he thinks he's drowning. When he presses in to meet her, his body over her back, casting shadow, sharing heat - she nods.

She holds his arm where it sits near her head. Eyes rolling shut when he gets back to fucking her. Her back arched, her ass pushing up against his skin, her back rubbing along his stomach. Not as quick, but _better,_ and not just for him. Makes him feel like there's nothing to their bodies but the move of his dick.

The hand he has on her hip soon slides forward into snatch. Circling maddeningly slowly. She pushes hard against him, taking him deep. He just keeps to his beat. The rhythm of his cock at odds with the movement of his hand.

It's not quite an orgasm he brings her to. Rather, the edges of one. Makes her pussy flutter and twitch. Feels incredible around him. Drags it on for _so long_ , keeping it so persistently present. She's whining, panting, eyes rolling.

When she does finally topple over, because he presses down a little too hard, it feels like her whole body is taking him. Her head rolling back, her eyes utterly gone. She presses her ass back into him, and he gratefully just holds her in place.

Orgasm hits _him_ by seeing the look on her face; so intensely, overwhelmingly, pleasurably numb. He can tell she only distantly feels him fucking his cum into her. It just becomes part of the rest. His body collapsing on top of her, her shoulders sweaty and warm under his chest.

* * *

They lie next to each other on the dustsheet, spread out over once polished wood. The moon turning pale skin blue. She wants a cigarette, and he could do with a drink. Neither of them are moving, though. They just stretch out and quietly think. Grace on her stomach, Daniel on his back. She looks down at his body and chortles.

"You should take the socks off you dweeb."

"No, no, no. My toes'll get chilly." Her freezing feet slide up the length of his shin, "Ah! Okay, okay! One sock each."

A pair of socks shared between legs, they fold them and twist.

* * *

"What is all this stuff anyway?"

"Old furniture, a bunch of failed business ventures, toys from a different generation of kids. I used to come up here when I was younger, just to... to get away from everybody. I like it. Just stuff from before Dad and Grandpa drank the Kool-Aid. When they used to have thoughts of their own."

"I thought you didn't like being lonely..."

"There's a bit of a difference between that and 'alone'."

* * *

Daniel kisses her heavy and deep. Rolling her over to pull her comfortingly under his heat. They have sex on the floor in the moonlight. Face to face, quiet and slow, completely safe.

She falls asleep huddled in awkwardly. It might be the first time she's really had the chance to breathe. Caressing her skin, he watches over her until he too is snoring deep.

Daniel doesn't see her covered in his viscera come the morning. 


	9. Rules Lawyering - Grace

Grace just sits at the table crying. The useless rich pricks. They have no idea what to do. They're whispering to each other in panic. Not a one has a goddamn clue. Alex is stroking her shoulder. Daniel's crouching down next to her knee.

"Hey, Gracey... Do you want a drink?"

His eyes are heavy and worrying. Is he _in there_ for once? Or is it just wishful thinking? Alex is just as surprised to see him as she is. Nodding, he lifts.

"You guys get the game ready. We'll be back in a minute. Scouts honour."

There's no reason not to trust him. None of them ever remember. Hand tight on hers, he's heading for the Study. Alone and quiet, he plops her down into a chair. Crouches in front of her, pouring two generous tumblers of gin.

* * *

"So, what are the rules, Grace?"

Oh, he's in there. He _remembers_. The last time he did...

"I had- to scrape your blood- off my back..."

He wipes the tears from her cheeks. Encourages her to drink. Waits a beat.

"Okay. Focus, for me. What did Le Bail actually _say_?"

"... Don't _lose_ \- infinite tries- _save someone_."

"And dying doesn't count as you 'losing'?"

"Nope. Just a ' _try_ ', I guess. I think losing is the Ritual. I die by that knife, and I'm done. Although, I'm not particularly willing to put that to the test."

"Absolutely. Yeah, we're not going there. But then- the 'save someone'? Who?"

"He said the one who 'earned it'."

"What like Alex? If he gets you out?"

" _Yeah, right_. Good luck with that." Looks like he forgot some of it, "You're the only person in this family who ever tries to help me out. But you die. Every time. No matter what. If I stay hidden, you die. If I come out, you die. One of those _fuckers_ always kills you. _I don't want to see it again_. Watching you bleed, is worse than me dying."

"So, what do we-"

"I don't know, Daniel! I don't know- I've been _alone_ in this loop for so long, I've tried everything I can think of."

"You're not alone anymore. I remember."

"Not _really_. And not _always_ , either. Sometimes I see it, sometimes you're _there_. The guy who knows _this is happening_ , the one who realises- And even if you don't remember _everything_ , it's enough. Other times, though... you're just... _empty_. And it goes on like that for a _long time_."

"I'm sorry, Grace." He holds her cheeks, stops her head from shaking to disagree, "Don't do that. I'm just as responsible for this as the rest of them."

"Maybe, but I like you better."

"I like you, too." A kiss, such a quick one, "So, do _you_ think we _both_ have to make it to the end?"

"I've _told you_ , if I stay hidden, at dawn you go caput with the lot of them-"

"So, do _I_ have to do something different? Grace, when you don't stay hidden, do I help you?"

"Every single time. Any way you can."

"And they kill me... Who? Specifically?"

"Specifically? Charity, mostly. Your Mom- Tony sometimes... Emilie even knocked you into the goat pit-"

"Nooo! Not the goat pit- dammit Emilie!"

There he goes, making her laugh again. His smile small but sweet.

"And _Alex_. He's killed you. _Once_."

The silence stretches out for a good long beat. First confusion, then realisation, guilt, anger and grief. No time to unpack it. They don't have that long.

"No Fitch?"

"Uh-uh"

"Useless piece of shit."

"If we're both supposed to make it to the end, I haven't found a way to do it. The closest we got was-"

"I have to _earn_ it?"

"Obviously."

"No, I mean. The nights I ' _survive_ ' it's because I didn't do anything, right?"

"Yeah, you just sat in the Study and drank. Or fucked me in the attic."

Swallowing, it's clear across his face when he suddenly remembers, "Sounds _delightful_. Now, the nights when I don't, the nights when I _die_?"

"You're helping me."

"No I'm _sacrificing_ me. Aren't I?"

" _Daniel_ -"

* * *

"Right..." He's standing, staring ahead, "Let me _keep trying_ , until we _get it_. Until you get me to the end."

"But I _hate_ seeing you-"

"I know. But you putting a gun to your head isn't exactly fun for me either. Watching you stab a broken arrow into your neck-"

"And if you forget again? And I'm left doing this all _alone_?"

" _You're not_. You're never alone as long as I'm helping you. Even if I don't remember. Use me _anyway_ , Grace."

" _Use you_? What? Make you my means to an end? I can't do that to you- I'm not-"

"No. You're _Grace_. And I'd rather be your golden ticket than _anyone else's_. A good person's escape route. I give you permission. _I trust you_."

"Right _now_ you do..."

"So, you'll just have to _make_ me all the other times! We don't have a minute to argue, Gracey. They'll be waiting..."

"Okay- okay... okay. Will you do me a favour? Just the one?" Nodding, "Actually _take_ some fucking bullets for your gun."

* * *

Hand in hand. They're going back to the Game Room. Her breathing is rapid, she looks mortified. Not for herself though, it's all for him. So he stops just outside. Whispers in her ear.

"The only time my Mom ever told me she was proud of me, was at the last one of these games. I screamed and told everyone where the groom was, even though he was begging for my help. I was a _kid_. I was trying to keep Alex safe." 

"Daniel, that's... _fucked_."

A nod, a sigh, "I really am sorry for all this. It's true what they say-"

"The rich really are different."


	10. Trusting Bullets - Daniel

She's grabbing his shirt. Pushing him against the Study door. Eyes desperate, manic.

"Count- count to ten. Tell 'em I'm here. _Then get your fucking bullets_. We- we almost _had it_."

Running, out into the hall. Was she crying? Of, course she was, Daniel. She has a fucking _soul_. Pours liquor into a glass. Stares at the floor. How did she know?

"One, one thousand... Two, one thousand... Two and a half, one thousand. She's in the study!"

Time with Charity. Time with the _family_. Alex is out. A maid's beheading. In all the fuckery, the gun on his back isn't as empty as before. The camera turns red, and Daniel has no idea exactly why he says nothing.

* * *

"Alex, open up! Alex, it's Daniel. We don't have long before they notice the cameras-"

Door opens. Dragged in. Door closes.

"You gotta help me- You gotta help me! She's everything to me-"

"I know. We'll get her out."

" _Please_."

"I _promise_."

Together they watch the screens. Alex fiddling with buttons. Daniel staring at the bride. A pit in his stomach. She's scattered and erratic, reeling from burning a man's face. She's not a violent woman, but he held a knife to her throat.

There's something itching, in the back of the mind. Bothering him as she shifts from screen to screen. For all her action, all her terror, she's not _hiding_. There's no checking corners, no ducking behind doors. Almost as though, she _knows_ nobody is there to stop her. Alex doesn't notice - a good man, too busy trying to save his wife.

"That's it! They're open! She can get out!"

Rubbing his brother's shoulder. There's a horrendous pounding on the door. Somebody finally noticed the red lights.

"Okay, we need to break this."

And when it's done he knocks out Alex with the butt of his gun. Hating himself for it.

"Whose side are you even on?"

"I got him, didn't I?"

* * *

"She's out."

"Well... this was fun. What do you say we, uh, divvy up the wedding gifts at brunch tomorrow?"

"Do you think that this is a fucking _game_?"

"Yes. Hide and seek, _remember_?"

"Do you realize that if she lives till dawn, we're all gonna fucking _die_?"

" _Promise_?"

* * *

Staring into the dark. Smelling the stench of corpses. Emilie beside him. His sister. He loves her. In whatever way this family happens to love anything.

"We all deserve to die."

"My kids don't..."

They find Georgie in some hay. Got a shiner, a real gnarly black eye.

"I followed that lady down here, and I shot her with that gun I found."

"Why would you do that?"

"It's what everyone else was trying to do."

"Oh, sweetie. I am so proud of you."

That pit in his stomach, when Daniel thinks of Grace? It opens _wide_.

* * *

"It's funny, I came out here to escape the madness." But there's no respite from already being insane, "Thanks for crashing a car into my tranquillity."

"Daniel," Is she smiling? Covered in blood and bruises, but smiling? "You don't want me to die."

"No, I don't. I like you Grace... But, I'm _weak_."

" _Yeah_... But I'm proud of you anyway."

There's tears in his eyes. They're not clearing with a blink. Her hands on his cheeks, rubbing through beard. He's gasping and reeling, trying to step back. Why is she touching him? She kisses his lips. It's overwhelming. Pressing a forehead to his.

"I know you have to hit me." She braces, sticks our her jaw, "Plausible deniability, for Tony. I promise, we're _almost there_."

Something blunt to the face. She goes out cold. _What the hell is she doing_?

"What am I?"

* * *

A hand to his neck, he's bleeding. Not enough to matter. Not enough to kill him. He married the _right woman_ , for a man with a death wish. Charity didn't hesitate to pull the trigger. Only... Grace told him to drop, and he did so. She cares more than is fathomable that he keeps breathing. Even knocks the shit out of his wife.

"Let me look- let me see."

"I'll be fine. Really. Go!"

"Where's your gun?"

"What's it _matter_ , Grace? _Run_!"

"Go get it. You're going to _need_ it. And I'm _sorry_ , but _thank you_."

She's kissing him again and he doesn't know what to do with it. Her body weight on his is familiar, in a distant way that hurts. So, he strokes her cheeks and nods before she pulls away. Gone.

* * *

He hears her screaming. The house is on fire. He has his gun. Who caught her? She was on her way out! They should have all been puking their guts up and shitting weird for a week. There's sunlight creeping through the windows. Can't they see it's all a crock of shit?

Whoever's at the head of the table is the one he has to maim. That's Tony, right? It'll be Tony. Hope he's ready to get shot by 'a son'. Daniel swings around the corner already taking aim.

"Hail Satan."

Alex- It's _Alex_... Why is it Alex? And something crystallises. Grace's face. Not the mortified one, beaten and bloody on the table, about to die. No, a tired, broken, and mortified woman - repeatedly and unflinchingly betrayed.

How many times has Alex done this? She- she said ' _every time_ '.

And _why_? Why, Alex, _why_? Because she won't _stay_? Won't _overlook your failings_? Your blatant omissions and lies? Well, that's the choice you're supposed to give somebody! Especially those you're meant to love!

"Shitfucker!"

He's drunk. His aim is wobbly. Fires and absolutely misses the chest. Not that he was aiming for it. The man is still his _brother_. Catches a shoulder. Watches him spiral from the table. Screaming out in pain. 

Everybody's reeling, flinching away in horror. It's enough for the bride to be up and scrambling. Grabbing the ceremonial knife. Screaming.

"Grace!"

She runs for him. Gun fire again when Helene goes to swipe at her face. Empty threat, but they don't have to know that. He bundles her up behind him, ready. Pulls the curtains, and feels the sunshine on his body.

"No! It is lost! Forgive us!"

A room full of people cowering. Grace's fingers tight against his chest. Her feet shifting, ready to fight again.

"Um... Nothing's happening."

"No shit, Fitch!" Daniel spits, "It's all bullshit."

Grace pulls him tight against her shoulder, shaking, "Please, please, please, please, _please_..." Right?

"So, what do we do about _her_?"

"She still has to die."

"Get out of the way Daniel!"

Aunt Helene's guts splatter all over his face. And he drops the gun, thinking he caused it.

**_Run, run, run, time to run and hide._ **

**_Run, run, run, and now I'm going to find._ **

Then Fitch goes next. Charity begging an empty chair (hadn't she said she'd _rather be dead_?). Utterly astounded. Daniel stumbles as Grace comes around from behind him. Puts herself between his body and the rest.

**_Tiptoe to the cellar or crawl under your bed,_ **

_**Anywhere you've fled I am going to find you.** _

Emilie runs screaming from the room with her sons, three explosions. Quick. And Daniel nearly vomits up a laugh.

**_Stay inside the shadows all you girls and boys._ **

**_Don't you make a noise or I am going to find you._ **

Tony screaming at an empty chair, until he too goes up. It's fucking madness.

**_You can scuttle off into the night,_ **

**_But what will be behind you?_ **

Then Alex is begging. Holding his bloody bullet wound. Grace is wringing Daniel's hand. Tosses the knife finally aside. He remembers _everything_.

"I don't wanna die-"

"Neither did I, you selfish fuck!"

**_Tick, tick, tock, are you ready or not?_ **

**_Tick, tick, tock, listen to the clock._ **

Daniel remembers saving her, over and over again. He remembers her trying and failing to do the same for him. All the blood, all the pain, all the fear. The hope that maybe he'd made the slightest bit of difference. Even though he, _clearly_ , never did.

"No, I'm not like them- I'm not like them! You made me better, honey. See? He's not taking me."

**_Hasten off into the black._ **

**_Don't waste another heartbeat._ **

"I get a do-over, sweetie. And that's because of you. Yeah? Sweetie? Grace, I'm really scared-"

 _Too close_. Daniel yanks her out of his reach. Pulls her tight to his chest. She belongs there. He remembers more than just kissing her. He remembers the feel of her warm around his cock. Moonlight on her tits. Her stroking at chest hair. Sharing socks.

"Don't you _touch_ her."

**_Let the countdown begin._ **

"Alex..."

She's looking over her shoulder. Studying Daniel's face. Buried against her dress. His shoulders shaking. He knows he's crying. Closes his eyes, turns his face away from the sight of his brother.

**_Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five..._ **

Only she can hear him, "You were _supposed_ to _save her_."

**_Four, three, two, one..._ **

"I want a divorce."

_Splat._


	11. Winner, Winner Chicken Dinner - Grace

Mr Le Bail's grinning in his chair. Applauding. Laughing. Gone.

Her legs give out. Down onto the floor. Bloody and broken, but for once she's not alone. Daniel's hand atop her grubby hair. Crouches down beside her. Kissing her forehead. Just as red as she. She can hardly believe what she's seeing. In fact, she's pretty sure it's not real.

"The house is burning, Gracey. We need to get outside, okay?"

She nods but nothing about her is moving. She can barely even think. He hoists her up by the armpits, giggling as she wilts and sinks.

"I need a cigarette."

"Uh-huh, and I need a _drink_."

Arm around his shoulder, he takes her through the house. Becky's cigarette case from one corner, a bottle of liquor on the way out. They end up sitting on the porch. He lights her up, then leans back groaning, supping on his booze. Knees knocking. Sirens in the distance.

For the first time (since the first time) Grace takes a drag. A good long pull. Blows it out, a whistle on the exhale. Hands steady. Flicks ash. Fingers on her back tracing the cut, it's still stinging. A wound worth the taking, now, since it got her out to him. Hand in hand, they sit together. Wait for Emergency Services.

"Jesus Christ, what happened to you two?"

"Family." - "In-laws."

* * *

The only thing, from the wreckage, that the remaining Le Domas' say they want to keep is an antique sofa from the attic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All done.  
> Style was a little experimental.
> 
> I have _feelings_ about Daniel Le Domas.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed.  
> Leave a comment  
> x


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